Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Our room has the most idiotic feature on Earth (no, not Magic Fingers). The air conditioning unit blows straight up into the curtains, launching them away from the window. So you have a choice between being comfortable at night or having your room randomly inundated by the bright lights of the Strip as the curtains flop in the breeze. With the fan set on high it could cause a seizure.

The room also includes a copy of this generic local promotional magazine:

(click to enlarge)

Take a good look at the cover, and notice how none of the people watching the clown look even remotely entertained. In fact, the person immediately behind and to the right of Bozo is falling asleep. Now, maybe this is because the only seats they could get were facing the clown’s ass, but you’d think the photographer could try for more enthusiasm.

On a random note, I forgot to write about one of the kids' favorite things at LegoLand: The Fire Academy. This 2 minute torture session race is one of the most grueling experiences in the park: 4 families compete against each other to: pump (by means of a handcart) a firetruck down a road to a "fire", use a fire hydrant and 2 water hoses to put it out, then pump the truck back. The fire truck and hoses each take 3 people to operate, and you can have up to 4 people on a team. So this builds serious teamwork. You don't win anything except pride (not even a few measly Lego bricks). And, I'm pleased to say, the Grumpy family over the course of the day finished 3 and 1.

Today we walked around Las Vegas.

Going through the shopping areas is always interesting. In the Flamingo’s lobby they have a sex shop, featuring a doorway made to look like a very tall lady’s legs:

And inside the mannequins (love the adult diaper) are about to get it on:

A store over at Caesar's Palace is debuting the latest in womens’ fashion, which apparently involves wearing a large purse on your head.

This afternoon the kids wanted to hit the pool again. After passing several people trying to sell us timeshares (I’m in a fucking bathing suit, and DO NOT want to stop and talk to you here in the middle of the damn lobby) we got there.

The Excalibur has a bizarre layout where people in tower 1 have to walk through THE WHOLE DAMN CASINO to get to the pool. Tower 2 is right there. Why they don’t have an entrance at each end of the building (when the pool obviously connects to both sides) is beyond me. Because I’d think that seeing yours truly go by wearing nothing more than a bathing suit and flip-flops would scare people away from the slot machines.

We got down to the pools, and were reassured by a look at the lifeguards: there were 5 of them at the one the kids went to: One was busy texting, another was filing her nails, and a third was wearing, I swear, knee-high socks and high-top basketball sneakers. This is not something you normally see in an occupation that requires you to quickly jump in the water at random intervals.

After reassuring Craig that his hair looked fine, I went into the pool myself. There was a row of teenyboppers sitting at the front, cleverly stationed there by plastic surgeons to show off the coming 2012 line of breast implants. Across from them, as a public service announcement to use sunscreen, was a lady who looked like a bizarre cross between a Barbie doll, Charles Atlas, and a leather purse. After one look at her I wanted to buy out the Coolibar catalog.

The only real winner we had in Las Vegas was Marie, who over the course of 3 days found $9.80 in change at the bottom of the Excalibur’s pools.

As we walked back through the lobby, dripping wet, in swimsuits, some time-share guy blocked our path to ask “Hey! Have you guys been at the pool?” ("No, you moron, it was raining over by the buffet"). I don’t know what look it was that I gave him, but he backed off fast.

Tonight we went down to the medieval-themed arcade. When I was a kid the games were 25 cents each. Now they’re $2.

These places are always frightening to me because Marie is the MASTER of crane games (“be the crane, Squidward”). So we knew we’d be leaving with a few small stuffed animals. But we weren’t prepared to see her show up with this giant basketball (Diet Coke can placed for comparison) that she won.

Mrs. Grumpy and I exchanged the “How the hell are we going to get that on the plane?” look, so common to parents in these situations.

After a strenuous time playing arcade games, the tribe apparently thought we were on a cruise, and wanted to go for pizza, grilled cheese, and ice cream. So we went to the coffee shop, where Marie argued with the waiter that she also wanted bacon, even though it wasn't breakfast. And some chocolate chip cookies. She gave him some soggy coins from the pool as a tip.

And so, from somewhere in the Excalibur hotel, happy Summer Vacation to all, and to all a good night.

21 comments:

The last time I was in LV was in the mid '70s. When you went to Caesar's Palace it was up a slidewalk, while a booming voice said, "I AM CAESAR, WELCOME TO MY PALACE" and some other shtick. It was ignorable... until the 4th time or 9th time, I forget. By the end we were chanting along with it.

I forget where we were staying (it's long ago enough that I'm sure the hotel is long, long gone anyway) but my baby brother, barely a teenager, dove into a pool and knocked some bubble-boobied bimbo off of the float upon which she was sunning herself. Her over testosteroned musclebound boyfriend/husband/gigolo/whatever got really pissed off and made like he was gonna start hitting my brother, until said bimbo pointed out he was "just a kid."

And anyone who has ever gone to a convention where you get tons of swag/crap/toys can tell you how you get the giant ball home: You take it to the concierge or business center and say, "I need to ship this." Either that, or you donate it to the local Goodwill.

20 years ago, when that hotel was first built, I think the games were about a dollar. I didn't pay a ton of attention to the cost when I was 10, but my parents probably did. Did you take the kids to the Luxor? The atrium is pretty cool, and the level with games was also entertaining (in my memory, at least). My grandmother lived in Vegas for a number of years. I spent summers out there.

Word verification: Sisessat. What you're going to yell at Craig to confuse him the next time he asks about his hair.

quick! post a listing on ebay to sell the b-ball, make up a funny story about the ball, post it on the listing, i bet a lot of people will be bidding and who knows, you could end up earning 10k before you leave town, and then you don't need to haul the ball back home.

We walked past that same shop and my oldest daughter asked, "why would you want to go into a store between someone's legs?" "Why do they have to be so big and in front of the store?" I told her they were being creative, that's all. To which she replied, "well, it is really dumb, I wouldn't want to go in there" No sweetheart, you won't be going in there. I must admit I was looking to see if anything caught my eye as we walked past..... :0)

word verification: schaigIf I buy something from that store, I'm definitely looking for a schaig!

Earl, I may not be a photographic expert, but that ball appears to be of the stuffed variety. Like a stuffed animal. Which is what the crane "games" usually have in them. You know, so they can be grabbed with a crane without, um, popping? I dunno. Maybe I'm a dumbass...

I wanna know if anyone has ever had the gumption to tell Craig that something is, indeed, wrong with his hair. And then see what happens. :D

Must be a little girl talent. My daughter is always bring home those crappy toys from the crane games. I'm the type of parent that wonders what kind of weird chemicals they are leaching out beacause they never seem to be a normal color and are made of the weirdest materials. Every so often I do a sweep of cheap carnival/crane toys and kids meal toys and off to the trash they go.

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